Castle of Lies

by Kiersi Burkhart

  If Thelia were asked about my whereabouts, she’d throw me to the crows. She’d tell my dad I was off serving the serving ladies in the larder, and she’d enjoy it.

  “She’s comforting the Princess,” I say instead. “Corene’s fiancé is leaving for war, you know.” Thelia owes me.

  Morgaun smirks. “High time for a war with the long ears. I’d like to kill one of those Magic-worshipping monsters myself, maybe strangle it with my bare hands.”

  “And mount its head among the rest of your collection?” I roll my eyes. I’ve seen the walls of his room back at the Finegarden manor, covered in toothy torture devices he calls antiques. “Spare us.”

  Morgaun purses his lips. “No. I’d kill it slowly. Make it watch me fuck its sister.”

  No Frefoisian would dare speak the way Morgaun does. The only crime our courts considered worse than murder was rape, and Morgaun would’ve long ago gotten his tongue snipped off. They do that so you can’t make too much noise when the magister snips the rest of you.

  The moment the Finegardens retreat back into Thelia’s room, my parents poke their heads out of the opposite door. “You should stay with us in here, Percy,” Dad says, flicking a nervous look at the closed door. “We’ll make space for you.”

  I wave him off. “Thanks. I’ll be in later.” As far as parents go, I’m better off than Thelia. Sure, Dad sees me as a symbol of his discontent here; my lack of passion in restoring what we lost irritates him endlessly. But Mom has always been quiet and passive, and she’s been in poor health as long as I remember, so there’s no way to know if it’s her illness or her personality.

  I open up the trunk, licking my lips as I pull out one of my three bottles of black wine. One thing I’ll say: my father enjoys a quality bottle as much as I do. I curl up with it on a bench in the hallway and start sipping.

  A mounted torch crackles as it burns. It’s the dead of night, but people still creep around the halls, looking for spare rooms. Some doze on the stairs or against the walls. I let the nearly empty bottle fall into my lap. I won’t go back inside until I’m sure that everyone’s asleep.

  “Percy?”

  I open my eyes and realize I’ve drifted off with my head propped against the wall. Thelia’s gaze drops to my lap, and she gives me a nasty smile. “Dreaming of me?”

  “No.” I cross my legs. Her catlike smile grows wider. “Someone else.”

  She sits down next to me, the hem of her dress landing above the knee—enough that I get a hearty swallow of leg. I wince.

  “I’m disappointed,” she says, reaching for my bottle of wine. “But it’s for the best. We’re going to be living right next to each other.” When I don’t give up the wine, she tries to wrest it away from me.

  “Stop it.” I yank it back. “It’s mine.”

  “We’re family.” She tries again. “Come on, share with me.”

  “Shut up, witch,” I slur, clutching the wine to my chest. “You left me with your filthy craggon of a brother, and I protected you. You thank me by taking my one comfort?”

  She looks insulted. “Percy, I—”

  “That’s not my damned name!” I stumble to my feet, blood rushing to my head. How have I stood her this long? She doesn’t care about anyone but herself. She’ll step on anyone, even me, if it means getting what she wants. Down the hall, an oil lamp flickers. “I know where you were.” I sway as I stick a finger in her face. “Out looking for Bayled Vasha, right?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Why? He has nothing to offer you now—definitely not a crown. Don’t tell me you want him.” I know I shouldn’t. I’m lowering the match to the oil, waiting for it to explode. But nothing will matter soon, when the long ears arrive. Might as well enjoy some fireworks.

  “We don’t know who’s coming back from this war and who’s not,” says Thelia. “I’ve picked my horse in this race.”

  I snort a laugh. “Still obsessed with him. It’s all you care about.”

  “You’re just jealous of my ambition,” she snaps back. “At least I want something. You’ve given up. You just want to see it all burn.”

  More lamps flicker, up and down the hall. Thelia’s eyes dart around, then back to me. “You couldn’t find him, could you?” I sneer. “He’s avoiding you, Theels. He can’t stand you. Your plan never would’ve worked. Besides, I know something about him that you don’t.”

  “I don’t want to play this game right now, Percy.”

  “You play with me all the time, just like you did in the banquet hall.”

  “Your trews are all twisted up from a little two-finger punch?” She rolls her eyes, as if she didn’t leave me on the floor in white-hot pain only a few hours ago. “You’ve always been a weakling.”

  The wine in my stomach rises up, hot as dragon’s breath.

  Crash. Glass shatters down the hall—like a vase was smashed. People scream as the oil lamp goes out, dumping broken glass all over them and the floor.

  I stand up and lean perilously toward her in the darkness, ignoring the chaos down the hall. I’d planned on telling her what I’d learned from Derk, but why bother? In fact, why concern myself with anything that happens to any of them? They wouldn’t do it for me.

  “Your looks won’t last forever, you know,” I hiss at her. “You’ll grow old and be just as bitter and alone as your mother. Unless your fearsome little elves kill us first.”

  Before she can say anything in response, I turn and stride back through the door to my family’s suite.

  I lie in bed, undo the top button of my breeches, and slip one hand in. I imagine Corene first. Then Nul se Lan. It doesn’t respond, so I close my eyes and try to imagine Thelia instead. But all I see behind my eyelids is a frightened little girl, curled up in a ball in front of the fire, screaming.

  The elves are coming!

  Thelia

  Parsifal pops another bread roll into his mouth. “We didn’t see you last night, cousin.”

  I scowl at him across the table. After everything he said, he has the nerve to play aloof? Maybe he was so drunk that he doesn’t remember. Does that mean he’s forgotten his secret about Bayled, too?

  Down the table, Daddy and Antonin argue over how long the war will be—and what’ll happen when the food runs out. “There’s a parade this morning,” Morgaun says. “The army is marching out.”

  I spit out a quail bone in surprise, and my father eyeballs me. “When did I raise such a disgusting daughter?”

  “Sorry.” I figured we were beyond rules now. No reason to bother, with all the eligible bachelors gone off to war.

  Morgaun laughs. “You didn’t raise her,” he says. “Mother did—to be a heathen, just like her. Like sow, like piglet.” He carves off more ham with his knife, popping a whole piece into his mouth, and licks the blade with a wink.

  I feel like flegging up that quail, but how many more meals like this will I get?

  “I blame Baron Durnhal,” Parsifal says, smirking at me. So he does remember last night—and he’s still angry. “If the Baron had just proposed, he could’ve turned Thelia into a proper lady.”

  How dare my cousin take part in this? After all those times Daddy scolded me for being too loud, for learning kroga, for dressing in trousers for practice, and Parsifal assured me, You’d be made a Princess in Frefois for that. It always made me feel better. Now he’s turned on me.

  Morgaun laughs. “She needs a stronger antidote than marriage to fix what’s wrong with her.”

  I set down my fork and get up. I don’t need to listen to this. Morgaun’s mockery follows me out of the suite—my suite, now stacked to the ceiling with their moldy trunks. Elves won’t be the ones to kill me. Morgaun will.

  Of course he had to bring up Red just when I’ve been moving on—patching over the holes it left in me when I woke up and I found that letter under my door.

  Is it too late to flee Four Halls? I wouldn’t even be here if that self-righteous trit Corene hadn’t interfered. I
remember thinking it perfectly normal when I passed them talking in the hallway; now I know she was poisoning Baron Durnhal against me.

  If it weren’t for her, I’d be Baroness of the Crimson Woods—and nowhere near this awful castle. My head grows hot with rage remembering Red’s roguish smile, the swipe of silver at his temple, his clefted chin. Now Corene is safe up in her tower while Parsifal and I are shoved into a stone box with Morgaun, the dogs, and the commoners.

  I’m a cousin of the Princess. I will not go back to that room, with those horrid people.

  I stamp up the stairs to North Hall. When I reach the top, two guards block my way. “No entry for non-royals.”

  “I’m here to see my cousin,” I say calmly.

  “Let her through,” the first guard says, his fingers ghosting over his neck. He’s the one from last night. They step aside and I march past.

  I pause outside Corene’s door and take a deep breath. I can’t storm in there, overflowing with rage, and expect to get what I want. There are a lot of empty rooms on this hall—I can simply ask to have one.

  My gaze falls on the inscription. C + T.

  I still can’t figure out why she did it. Sure, Corene and I had our little tiffs growing up. But I never hated her before the spring, and I didn’t think she hated me. I remember how she smelled every time I got up on her bed, bruised and cut, and she wrapped her arms around me. “Oh, Delia just loves you too much,” she’d say in a mollifying voice. “She wants the best for you.” The beautiful Princess would pat my back and have a handmaid bring us cakes and maybe a jester to perform for our pleasure.

  I’m standing in the hallway, thinking, when the door opens. Corene gasps, her hair in a wild tangle and her gown on backward. “Thelia?” Her frenzied expression fades into an awkward smile. “Did you come to see me?”

  “I, uh . . .” I lick my lips. “No. I’m going to Bayled’s quarters.”

  Her eyebrows furrow. “He’s not here.”

  “I know. I’m just going to see . . . if he left a note for me.”

  She tilts her head. “Why would he leave you a note?” The way she says you, like I’m no more significant in this castle than a serving girl, brings all my hatred roaring back.

  Corene’s always looked down on me. Queen Laine hated my mother, always harped in front of me about how disappointed she was with her brother for stooping to marry her. I want to stick my hand in Corene’s stupid orange hair, twist it into a knot, and pull as hard as I can. I want to hurt her like I hurt when I found the Baron gone.

  “Oh, horsefish,” I say. “Never mind.” I turn and start back the way I came. I’ll never get anything I want from Corene. It’s all about her, always has been.

  “Wait,” Corene calls after me. I ignore her and slip down the arched stone hallway to the stairs. Her tiny footsteps follow me. “Theels, wait!”

  I spin. “Don’t you dare call me Theels. Don’t you dare.”

  “What . . . ?” She has the nerve to look confused. All the fake hugs and comforting and tenderness—shit right out of a troll’s ass.

  I’m not going to take it anymore. “You rotten rib cage,” I snap, taking a step forward. “You made him leave. My Red. How could you?”

  His letter didn’t say outright who was to blame for his decision to leave court, but it was easy to read between the lines. Someone who I trust knows your heart.

  Corene’s face falls. “I—I didn’t mean to . . .”

  Another step, and Corene presses her back to the wall. “Oh, you didn’t mean to pull him aside one night and brim over with my secrets?” I ask. “You just accidentally told him about my mother?” I’m sure she told him every sordid detail.

  “I . . . didn’t realize . . .” She’s clawing around the inside of her skull for what she thinks I want to hear. “How you felt about him—?”

  “Too late now, isn’t it?” All my coiled-up muscles release, like a trigger in a trap. I lunge at her, letting out the shriek of rage that’s been building inside me for moons.

  Corene tries to step out of the way but I adjust instantly and tackle her to the ground. We fall to the floor, me on top. She’s so weak, it’s like wrestling with a mannequin. It would be so easy, so quick, to kill her right now.

  “Theels!” Corene shrieks. “I didn’t mean to!” She flails like a caught fish. Of course she meant to tell him everything that was unappealing and unladylike about me—everything that made me unfit to be a Baronness. “If I’d known you loved him—”

  The moment she says it, I realize: I did love him. I trusted him. He kept up with me and even seemed to relish my darker tendencies. Maybe, after a time, I could’ve seen him without clothes and not felt ill. Maybe I could’ve done the things with him that wives do.

  I could’ve gone to the Crimson Woods and ruled the barony at his side. I could’ve left everything here behind—Morgaun’s seething and brooding, Daddy’s judging, and Mother’s desperate ambitions for my future that still lingered. I could’ve easily given up marrying Bayled, given up becoming Queen, for him.

  All at once, the pleasure’s gone out of this. Killing Corene wouldn’t get him back. And I’d live the rest of my life in a dungeon, however much of it is left to me.

  I free my hand from Corene’s tangles and stumble away. Her face is red where I smacked it against the floor, her cheeks covered in shining tears as she struggles up to her feet. She’s accepted her punishment.

  I straighten my skirts, feeling nothing now but bottomless sadness. “Why?” I ask her. “You were supposed to be my best friend.”

  Corene wipes her face with her sleeve. “I just . . . I thought you were only after his title. I thought you’d break his heart. I was protecting him.”

  “Protecting him from me?” The tears hurt the soft skin under my eyes as they start to pour out. I cover my face with my hands because I can’t seem to stop them. I’ve never cried in front of her, even when Mother left. Never. “We’re family. You were my best friend. That’s beyond sideways, Corene.”

  “I know.” She sniffles. “I’m sorry. He was just so much older than you.” Corene takes a step toward me—testing the water. “I had no idea you actually cared about him. Like that.”

  “Never hurts to ask!” I shout through the tears, but I’m drained of all my venom. I wish I could sink into this floor and be sucked into the earth.

  Corene’s blue eyes are glassy and heavy. “I know,” she whispers. “I’m sorry he went home.”

  She’s so innocent and vacant, like a horse. The Corene-sized hole in my chest is filling up again. I sigh and take a matching step toward her. We each take one more and then we’re together, and we wrap our arms around each other.

  “Everything is horrible. Bayled’s gone. Father keeps drinking. And now you hate me.” She holds me tighter and sniffles. I don’t contradict her, but I maneuver my arm around her shoulder and lead her back to her room.

  Corene collapses into her bed, grabs the nearest pillow, and buries her face in it. I lie down next to her, like when the Queen was dying, like when Mother left.

  Corene sniffles. “I can’t believe we’re just . . . cows waiting to have our heads cut off.”

  “They don’t cut off cows’ heads.” Mother took me to watch once. They stick a sharp blade right through the brain. That is how you end it fast, with no noise.

  “You know what I mean!” She hiccups, which certainly means she’s crying into the pillow. “What if we all die?”

  Melidia curse my corpse, please. “Then at least we die together.” It’s something out of one of our children’s stories, but it seems like the right thing to say.

  “What about Nul and Bayled? They’ll die first, far away in battle!”

  Great. Now I’m stuck comforting Corene again. “Bayled will come back for you. That—I know.”

  She creases the pillow with her fingernails. “Daddy sent them away without any preparation. They’re doomed.”

  I want to strangle her all over again. “You th
ink so little of Bayled?” Maybe I’ve called him stupid in front of Parsifal before, but he’s truly not. “He can think for himself. He’ll find a way to survive. Don’t you believe in him?”

  Corene pulls her face away from the pillow, eyes sprinkled with red. “I do!”

  “Then what are you sitting here crying about?” I snap. “I’m trapped in my tiny room with Morgaun, of all people, and you’re blubbering over some horsefish that hasn’t even happened yet?”

  Her eyes open wide, like she just woke up from a dream. “Oh, right. Morgaun’s here.” It’s an effort not to roll my eyes.

  “I couldn’t be in a room with him another moment,” I say. I hide the smile crossing my face. She just needs a little push to go over the edge. “I’m always scared.”

  Corene sits up, inspired. She is justice. She is fairness and generosity. “You shouldn’t live in fear. Let me try to make up for all I’ve done. Come live with me in North Hall—we have plenty of room.”

  “Really?” I rub my face like I’m scattering tears. “Parsifal, too? Morgaun’s ready to eat him alive down there.”

  You owe me one, Percy. The debt is paid—now he’d better make like a dragon and give up his hoard. I need to know what he knows.

  “He’s welcome, too.” Corene smiles graciously. “It’s what Mom would want. You’re family.”

  Damn right I am.

  Parsifal

  I’m sizzling, swelling, and ready to pop. I keep saying things I shouldn’t, but everything is upside-down and I don’t know where to find the ground.

  I’m searching the castle halls for signs of Derk, hoping we might reconcile for a day—and studiously avoiding going back to our suite—when I nearly crash into Thelia on the stairs. I cover my chest, sure she’s going to two-finger slam me again.

  “Just the person I was looking for.” She smiles in a way that’s almost convincing. “I know last night was hard—but can we forget that now? Please? I have a surprise for you.”

  No, I’m not ready to forget it. But my curiosity is more powerful than my resentment, so I grudgingly follow her up the stairs to North Hall. The guards posted there don’t question us as we pass toward Corene’s room.